Normal & Unique Are Just Matters of Opinion
by everfaraway
Summary: Clint Barton has disappeared for the past four months since the Tesseract Incident which does not amuse either Fury or Hill. When his tracker comes back on Natasha is sent to retrieve him. And the Avenger's lives are gonna get a little bit weirder when they realize that the archer has a few tricks in his quiver. Surprises in later chapters.
1. SHIELD Trackers Suck

SHIELD Trackers Suck

**_Author: So I got this really weird idea for a story in my head a couple of days ago & finally figured  
out how to start it. And thank goodness I found an extremely detailed timeline for the movie-verse.  
I own nobody, except Agent Wilson. I just enjoy playing with them. Read & Review please!_**

August 2011

SHIELD Base

Location: Classified

"How does Agent Barton just drop off the map like this?" Maria Hill complained, staring at the holographic map before her.

"Hill if I knew, he wouldn't be disappearing." Natasha told her as she sat down on a table nearby.

"You are his partner Agent Romanoff." Fury pointed out.

"Partner. Not keeper. And he never leaves word with me when he disappears." the red head quipped.

"We need to make the trackers harder to detect & shut off." Maria sighed.

"He would still find it & shut if off. If not destroy it." Tasha said.

"Yes he would." Fury agreed.

"Why?" Maria demanded.

"Clint likes his privacy. He always has." Tasha told her.

Fury looked over at Natasha & raised an eyebrow.

"You want me to tell her the truth?" Tasha asked.

"What truth?" Maria demanded.

"Clint is... unique. He can..." Natasha began before the door opened & another agent walked in.

"This was a private meeting Agent..." Fury growled.

"Wilson sir. And I'm sorry to interrupt but Agent Barton's tracker just came back online." the agent said.

"Where?" Maria demanded.

"In the woods near Ontario. Canada." the agent said.

"What would Agent Barton be doing near Ontario?" Maria asked.

"Hunting." Tasha & Fury said together.


	2. Wild

**_Author: Sorry for not updating sooner. This chapter went through about three or four different drafts.  
Also been working, cleaning, etc... I did intend for this chapter to make people go "WTF?" I own nothing._**

Paws sent him flying through the woods, fast enough to outrun pursuers or chase down prey.

But not nearly fast enough to outrun his demons.

Stopping by the creek to drink, he growled at the ghosts that hovered in the shadows nearby.

Ghosts of innocent men he had killed... complete strangers to him.

Ghosts with faces and names that he knew.

Ghosts who haunted him night and day.

Ghosts who blamed him for their deaths and screamed for his blood.

A blur of brown burst out of the brush nearby and ran directly in front of him, close enough for him to catch without effort.

The rabbit kicked once... twice before going still as he kept his jaws locked around it's neck.

But it wasn't the rabbit's throat he imagined sinking his teeth into... oh no...

He's rather it be Loki's throat any day.

That hair black as a raven's wing.

Emerald eyes filled with malice.

And that mischevious, dangerous grin.

Loki had hoped to tame him and keep him as a pet.

He snarled and dropped the rabbit, turning his rage on dead log nearby.

He ripped into the log with fangs and claws, sending chunks of dead wood flying, all the while wishing it was Loki's body.

He hoped that where ever the mischief god was, he saw and understood his would-be pet's actions.

And he hoped they terrified him.


	3. Red Riding Hood & Her Big Bad Wolf

**_Author: This is what happens when my love for shapeshifters & Avengers breed. I only own the nameless characters. _**

"Can I help you sweetheart?"

Natasha looked over her shoulder at the bartender and eyed the men gathered in the bar before turning to face the bartender.

"Maybe you can. I'm looking for this man." she said, pulling up an image of Clint on her cell phone.

She realized then that she didn't know which alias Clint was using in this town.

"Oh that's that devil Charlie. Haven't seen him in over a month. Got himself into a fight last time he was in here. Fought like some wild beast." the bartender told her.

"Was he hurt?" she asked.

"Charlie? Nah. He won the damn fight. That group there... they got the worst of it." he admitted, nodding a little group at one of the pool tables.

One man had a scar under one eye while another had four long scars on his forearm.

They looked like knife wounds but Natasha knew better.

Many men who had crossed Clint wore scars like those.

"They're just lucky he didn't go for their throats." she muttered.

"Can I get you anything?" the bartender asked.

"Do you have vodka?" Tasha asked.

"Polar Ice and Alberta Pure." he told her.

"Anything other than local brands? Maybe one that's actually Russian?" she asked.

"Afraid not Miss Ruskie." he chuckled.

"I'd suggest you watch you tongue, снег обезьяна. Especially if you'd like to keep your manhood." she hissed.

Her next stop was Clint's house: a rough, wooden cabin hidden in the woods with little more than a dirt path to double as a driveway.

How he managed it on his motorcycle, she would probably never know.

"Clint? It's Natasha!" she called, climbing out of her car.

Silence.

Not even a bird call.

"Clint?" she called again as she pulled her gun from her thigh holster.

If there was a trespasser on the property, then Clint would have their blood.

Nobody came out here uninvited and there wasn't another soul for at least twenty miles or so.

The barn door was chained shut which went that his truck and motorcycle were both locked away inside.

So he hadn't to leave in a while... or couldn't.

"Stop it. Clint's fine." Natasha told herself, heading up the porch steps.

The door was unlocked (it always was) and open just a little... just enough to allow someone or something entrance.

"Clint? It's Tasha." she whispered, stopping to let her eyes adjust to the lack of light and smiling at familiar cabin.

Clint's home smelled like furs, musk and the woods.

She knew that there was always at least one bottle of good Russian vodka in the house.

And an oh so comfortable bed to fall into with Clint after a long mission.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the figure standing not even two feet from her.

A black wolf with shocking blue eyes... Clint's eyes.

"Just thinking." she whispered, reaching for him.

His fur melted away under her fingers as his body changed from wolf to man.

But his teeth stayed sharp, his grin was slightly feral and there was still some dark fur on his belly.

"How long where you in your pelt?" she whispered as she slid to her knees in front of him.

"Don't know. Since before the last full moon." he muttered in a voice rough from disuse.

"That was almost a month ago. The next full moon is in less that a week. You know it's dangerous to stay in your pelt so long." she told him.

"Was hoping it would make shit easier to deal with... but I still see the ghosts of the people I killed." he sighed.

"Loki killed those people Clint." she told him, gently stroking his cheek.

"With my arrows." Clint growled.

"You weren't you." Tasha argued.

"I hate you." he whispered.

"No you don't." she sighed.

"You're right... a wolf could never hate his mate." Clint breathed, resting his head against her shoulder and letting her hold him.

**_снег обезьяна means Snow Monkey in Russian. Slang term for a Canadian. ty internet._**


End file.
